


Whumptober 2019 - 19 - Asphyxiation

by DinerGuy



Series: Whumptober 2019 [19]
Category: Magnum P.I. (TV 2018)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Buried Alive, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Characters, Whump, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 01:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21091022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinerGuy/pseuds/DinerGuy
Summary: Magnum knows he just has to hold out long enough for the others to find him, that they're tearing the island apart to find him... but he's running out of air and they're running out of time.





	Whumptober 2019 - 19 - Asphyxiation

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimers apply.

It was dark.

The walls around Magnum felt like they were closing in on him.

His breaths were coming in quick gasps, even though he was trying to keep his breathing slow and even, and he knew he was running out of air. His lungs couldn't take in enough oxygen, and it felt like someone was pressing on his chest.

He coughed, the sound echoing hollowly around him.

He put his hands up for what felt like the billionth time, his elbows pressed tightly against his sides as he pushed against the rough wood just a few inches above his face.

It took everything in him not to panic as he thought—yet again—of how he couldn't move, couldn't pull his legs up, couldn't turn over, couldn't shift his arms any more than he already had.

He could feel his head spinning, getting lighter by the second, and he squeezed his eyes shut. It didn't make any difference—the darkness around him was as complete when his eyes were open as when they were closed. The pitch dark of the small wooden box he was trapped inside was doing nothing but adding to his disorientation.

The sound rasped around him as his breathing continued to grow faster and more ragged. He could barely breathe any longer. Even as he struggled to take in more oxygen, he found himself thinking of his friends. They were looking for him; he knew it. He just had to hold on until they found him.

That was all he had to do. Just hold on…

* * *

They pulled up to their suspect's house, tires squealing as Higgins took the turn into the driveway a little too fast and then slammed on the breaks.

Rick and T.C. were out of the car before it was fully parked, tearing for the side gate. Seconds later, Higgins was right behind them as the three of them piled into the backyard.

Katsumoto had told them he was sending help and would be there himself in minutes, but they knew they didn't have minutes. Magnum might not even have seconds at this point.

They had spent two hours desperately trying to find any trace of Magnum, who had vanished while following up a lead on a case. They'd run into several dead ends before discovering his investigation had led him to a particular shipping business just before disappearing.

Between Higgins' computer and Rick's connections, they'd discovered the owner of the company, one Brian Duarte, had an insatiable gambling habit and a hefty poker debt that he paid off by forging bills of sale for stolen art.

And then Higgins had looked up from her laptop and announced Duarte had booked a ticket to the mainland just after the last communication anyone had had with Magnum.

Duarte had been apprehended passing through TSA, and Katsumoto had wasted no time in getting the man to an interrogation room at HPD and grilling him about Magnum's whereabouts.

It was closing in on four hours since the private investigator had gone missing, and they'd had no time to waste.

But Duarte had refused to give any actual information. When the detective had pressed, Duarte had just smiled and sat back in his chair.

"You'll never find him. Not until it's too late."

Something in the man's tone had struck a chord and had Katsumoto rushing out the door and over to his desk. The three friends who'd been observing had followed, their faces all clearly showing their worry, masked to varying degrees of success.

The clue Katsumoto was looking for on his computer was the recording of and subsequent notes and report on a call earlier that afternoon. A call he'd just happened to overhear on the radio of an elderly woman calling in a noise complaint. Something that was no cause for concern for a robbery and homicide detective and that he'd ignored at the time.

Except he'd suddenly recalled that the woman in question lived on the same street as Duarte—and she'd called about a neighbor "making a racket" in the backyard.

No one had breathed for a solid ten seconds, then they'd spun and rushed for the door.

They'd stopped at a hardware store on the way, Higgins keeping the car running at the curb, Rick and T.C. nearly scaring to death the poor clerk who'd tried to ask if they needed help when they burst through the door. They were in and out with heavy-duty shovels in three minutes.

And now, they were tearing into Duarte's freshly turned yard, hoping they weren't too late.

"Thomas?"

"Magnum!"

"Just hang in there, buddy! We're coming!"

The man had literally overturned half of his large backyard to some extent or another, and, although they had a hunch he would only have dug deep enough to fully bury a body in one place, there was no way to tell where that was. 

And so they all set into the dirt, wordlessly splitting up the area and shoving their tools into the ground firmly. All of them had a grim set to their mouths, clenching their jaws as they tore into the work. No one wanted to say what all of them were thinking: it had been way too long already. If they didn't find Magnum soon…

And then Rick yelled, stopping both of the others mid-swing. "I've got something! He's here!"

T.C. was closest and joined him in digging. Higgins could hear a dull  _ thunk  _ as both of their shovels bounced off of something hard. She stopped herself from jumping in to help; as much as it was killing her not to, she had to admit there wasn't enough room for three of them to work at the same time without getting in each others' way. And she knew they could move the earth much faster than she could, so she'd stood back and watched, hugging her arms around herself, ignoring the burning of her hands and the panic fluttering in her chest.

Dirt flew and sweat rolled down the men's faces, but they didn't relent in their efforts. They all knew Magnum was there, trapped, just out of their reach.

And then Rick and T.C. dropped to their knees, throwing their shovels to the side as they started in with their hands. The hole was already over a foot deep, and they leaned in to push aside the rest of the dirt.

They ran their hands over the top of a wooden plank, searching for where it was fastened, then literally tore off the lid with brute strength, their muscles straining. The rough box was made of plywood, clearly only intended to keep the dirt out and counting on the weight of the earth to keep it from being forced open, which meant they had the top off and thrown out of the hole within seconds.

Their exclamations of  _ "Thomas!" _ rang out at the same time, and Higgins, who was already moving forward, felt her stomach drop as they quickly reached inside the hole—the  _ grave,  _ she thought angrily—and pulled a deathly still form from it.

T.C. was holding Magnum's shoulders and supporting his head, Rick his legs, and they quickly laid their friend on the churned soil. Rick reached to feel for a pulse, but Higgins had already scrambled over to where Magnum was lying still and silent on the ground.

His white shirt was dirty and stained with sweat, and his tan skin was noticeably pale. There was a dangerous blue tint to his lips, and Higgins barely breathed as she felt for a pulse. She gasped in relief as she felt it fluttering under her hand, but then her eyes darted downward, and she noticed his chest… his chest wasn't moving.

"Magnum?" she tilted her head, leaning downward but not feeling the movement of air that would have told her he was breathing. _ "Magnum!" _

She didn't even look over at Rick or T.C. The only thought in her mind was that she had to get Magnum breathing again. They couldn't have been too late. She could save him. She  _ had  _ to save him. He'd brought her back the day she'd nearly drowned—had drowned—when they were stranded at sea, and there was no way she was going to let him down. Not on her life.

"Come on, Magnum!" she exclaimed, pinching his nose and putting her mouth over his. She forced herself to breathe a slow, steady breath, then pulled back and studied his face.

No movement.

"Don't you do this to us!"

Another breath.

No response.

"You wouldn't let me give up!" She was yelling now, but she didn't care. "You made me come back. Don't you dare leave me!"

She leaned in and breathed into him again, focusing all of her panic and desperation on the action.

"Come on, Magnum! Breathe for me! Don't you leave me!"

And then he gasped, his eyes flying open as he coughed and choked at the fresh air filling his lungs. He started to turn over, still hacking, and Higgins rubbed his back.

"That's it," she told him, hearing how her sobbed breath of relief made her voice sound ragged but not caring. "There you go; that's it. Breathe, Magnum. Breathe."

Then T.C. was there, too, reaching to help steady their friend as Magnum's breathing finally evened out. "You're all good, T.M. We got you."

Sirens met their ears then, and they both looked up to see Rick disappearing through the gate to the front yard.

Another rasping cough from Magnum brought both of their attention back to him. He blinked up at them slowly, as if still working on putting all of the pieces together.

"What—" Another cough interrupted him as he tried to speak.

"Shh." Higgins brushed some dirt from his cheek and shook her head. "Don't try to talk. Help's on the way."

"Du… Duarte…" He trailed off and swallowed hard.

T.C. smiled reassuringly at the other man. "Don't worry about it, bro. Katsumoto's already got him locked up at HPD. He's not going anywhere."

With a tiny smile, Magnum settled back against the ground, and Higgins put a hand gently on his shoulder. By the time the paramedics wheeled the gurney into the backyard, he was breathing a little more easily. They soon had an oxygen mask strapped to his face as they loaded him up for the ride to the hospital.

He felt his breathing start to even out a few minutes later, even though his vision was still going funny and he could barely concentrate on anything. He vaguely heard Higgins talking to the paramedic beside him, but he couldn't quite hold on to the words.

But he could finally move freely again, breathe freely—at least for the most part—without feeling like someone was sitting on his chest, see the light and figures around him… Well, he could when he kept his eyes open, which he couldn't quite manage to do at the moment. But he knew, even as he felt himself drifting off, that it would all be there waiting for him when he woke up again.


End file.
